


Lost and Found

by Res



Series: I Love You [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Res/pseuds/Res
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry stared at the empty door, and sighed. Bollocks. Now what was he going to do? And how was he going to tell Ron that he'd lost Ron's Christmas gift, not three hours before he was to give it to him?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 of the 'I Love You' series, follows _**Its Not About the Sex**_
> 
> Disclaimer: NOT mine, much as I wish it!
> 
> Notes: For the Christmas in July challenge http://www.livejournal.com/community/harry_and_ron/67803.html . Though, obviously, *sigh*, I didn't get it done in time. But! Here it is, anyway, for you to enjoy!

It wasn't there.

Harry Potter stared at the spot blankly. It _had_ to be there! He was absolutely positive he'd put it there. Just there, in the trunk, under his invisibility cloak, wrapped up in his old Quidditch robes. He distinctly remembered putting it there, after he wrapped it last night.

But...it wasn't there.

Harry started pulling everything out of the trunk, shaking out clothes and cloaks, tossing books and bits everywhere, not caring where they landed as he searched franticly. It _had_ to be there!

"Yo, Harry, mate...," his red-haired partner, Ron, stepped into the room, eyes on the papers in his hands. He stopped as a sock flew past his nose to hit the door next to him, sliding down to land with a soft 'plop' on the hardwood floor, and looked up, startled. "...Is everything all right, mate?"

The room was a mess. Ron could not think of a time he'd _ever_ seen Harry's room in such a state. Laundry was everywhere, piled on top of the desk, tossed across the bed, scattered along the floor -- there was even a pair of underwear hanging from the wall sconce, dangerously close to the candle's flame. Reaching up to remove the imperiled garment, Ron looked around, tossing the underwear into a pile with its mates in the corner.

Harry was buried shoulder deep into his old school trunk, near the window, rummaging around with little regard for the safety of others. Ron dodged as another handful of kerchiefs, socks and underwear came flying in his direction, moving up close behind his friend. "Harry...did you lose something, mate? Can I help?"

Harry stood up so fast he hit his head on the curved lid of the trunk, reeling backwards with a curse, both hands buried in his spiked black hair as he spun in a circle, blinded by the ache in his battered skull. Ron caught him by the shoulders, holding him close before Harry could reel into the dresser, or trip over the clothing scattered haphazardly along the floor. "Whoa, Harry, are you all right?" He tugged at Harry's hands, peeling them gently away from Harry's throbbing skull. "Here, mate, let me look -- no...no, I don't see anything...." Strong fingers probed tenderly at the sore spot and Harry stifled another curse, trying not to flinch. "Just got a good lump here, mate." Ron let him go, stepping back to look him in the eye. "How many fingers?"

Harry squinted at him grumpily. "None, you prat. You aren't even holding up a hand." He rubbed his head gingerly. "Ouch."

Ron smothered a smile and tugged Harry close, gently nuzzling a kiss into the black hair. "There. Mum says kisses make it all better." He grinned at the faintly disgusted look that crossed Harry's face, then asked, "What were you looking for?"

"It's yo--" Harry suddenly froze, then coughed. "Ah, my wand. I seem to have put it down and now I can't remember where I've left it."

Ron frowned, then reached around Harry to pull a slender bit of wood out from under a pile of shirts tossed onto the windowsill just over the trunk Harry had been rummaging through. "It's right here, mate." He held out the wand, looking at Harry curiously. "That all you were looking for?"

Harry nodded, still rubbing his head, and looking around the room. After a moment, he looked back at Ron. "Ah...Did you need something?"

"Ehm...yeah, actually," Ron blinked and then held up the papers he'd brought in. "Mum's reminding us about the party tonight, and she's written to say they are going to have a White Niffler gift trade."

Harry frowned, then blinked in confusion. "A what?"

Ron grinned, a wicked, mischievous grin. "A White Niffler gift trade. It's a kind of party game - everyone brings a gift, wrapped, no names on. You put them under the tree and draw numbers. Then, whoever has number one picks a gift and unwraps it. Then, person number two can either take that gift, or go pick a gift to unwrap themselves. The person number three can either take the gift that person number one opened, or the one number two opened, or _they_ can go choose a gift to open. If someone takes your gift, you can either take someone else's gift, or you can go open a new one...its loads of fun, mate. Some of the gifts get traded around and around and around, takes forever." Ron beamed. "But we are going to have to get a gift for it - Mum's put a gift limit of two galleons, so something nice, but not too expensive. I know just where to go, too. Come on, we can Apparate to Diagon Alley and get something for each of us. There's just time, if we leave now."

Harry frowned harder. Leave? Now? "Ah, Ron, I --"

But Ron interrupted him, spinning on his heel and heading for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Meet you in the kitchen, Harry. I just want to grab your gift -- then we won't have to come back before the party!" And then he was gone.

Harry stared at the empty door, and sighed. Bollocks. Now what was he going to do? And how was he going to tell Ron that he'd lost Ron's Christmas gift, not three hours before he was to give it to him?

***

With a sharp _*pop*_ , they Disapparated into the Public Apparition Point at Diagon Alley. Ron barely waited for Harry to get his bearings before grabbing him by the sleeve and hauling him toward the shops. "Come on…we've only got a few hours, and I need to get Dad's gift as well. And I want to see if they have any of that mood ink at the parchment store...I think that would be a grand stocking stuffer for Ginny. Mum was talking about it the other day, you know."

Harry mumbled something vaguely appropriate, his mind still engaged in the search for his missing gift. He distinctly remembered putting it back into the trunk after wrapping it…that was the one place he thought he'd be sure to remember where it was, and that Ron would not look. And that metallic scarlet and gold paper would be hard to miss..., where had it gone to? He nearly walked over a little old witch in a lavender cloak, he was thinking so hard, dodging just in time to avoid bumping into her or her basket and giving her a faintly apologetic smile as he hurried after Ron.

Ron was oblivious to Harry's distraction, plowing determinately through the last minute holiday shoppers that filled the Alley. Harry had all he could do to keep up, trailing bumpily along in his friend's wake, rather like a dinghy after a red-topped tugboat in stormy seas, buffeted on all sides by witches and wizards hurrying by, cloaks flying and bags swinging. He cursed softly as one witch's over-full bag smacked him in the shin; the hollow, metallic clunk told him someone was probably getting a new, metal cauldron this holiday, the sting of it in his shin told him it was probably iron. Good, heavy iron. The kind with a bottom thick enough to make even Percy Weasley proud.

As Ron pushed their way into the parchment shop, Harry suddenly paused. The desk! Had he put the gift on the desk this morning? He distinctly remembered thinking that that would be a good idea, so he would not forget it. A small gift like that could easily get lost on their over-piled, over-loaded and over-worked desk.... "Hey, Ron!"

Ron paused ahead of him, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah, Harry?" The shoppers pushed and shoved around them, causing Ron to rock in place as he waited.

"Hey, I saw something over there," Harry waved vaguely over his shoulder at the other side of the street, "I'd like to look at, quick. I'll be right back, all right?"

Ron nodded, "Sure, mate, no worries. I'll be right in here, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Harry was already turning away to try and push his way out of the store. As soon as he was out, he ducked around the corner and Apparated back to the flat.

***

Damn. He'd been sure that was where it would have been.

Ten minutes later, Harry shoved his way back into the parchment store, standing on tiptoe to try to spot Ron's red head above the crowd. There he was, by the register. Harry pushed carefully through the crowd, coming up behind Ron just as the clerk was handing him his change. "That the ink?" he asked.

Ron turned and smiled to see him, "Yeah. I got two bottles…thought one might make a good gift for the exchange. How about you, find what you needed?"

Harry started, then remembered, "Ah, no. Wasn't what I thought it was from this side of the street."

Ron nodded and led the way out of the shop, "Yeah...I've done that."

Harry kept close behind Ron's robes, deftly slipping between shoppers as they moved out into the Alley again. "Where are you headed now?"

Ron pointed. "Flourish and Blotts. Dad's had his eye on some of the books about Muggle magic, Mum says. Thought I'd take a look, maybe get one for him."

Harry nodded. Books on Muggle _anything_ were always pretty much spot on for Arthur Weasley.

"What about you, mate?" Ron continued, looking over his shoulder at Harry as they entered the bookshop and nearly flattening a pair of teen-aged witches. They dodged out of his way and into a display table, sending books tumbling and squealing in outraged embarrassment. "Oh, sorry!" Ron's ears went scarlet and he hunched his shoulders against their glares.

Harry watched the saleswitch scramble to gather up the books and put them back on the table, getting onto her knees to crawl under the table and retrieve the last few books that had slid all the way against the wall. ...Under the table. Under the bed! Had he checked under the bed? Harry couldn't remember. "Ah, Ron, I just thought of something...you go find that book," Harry spun away and headed back out the door, oblivious to Ron's startled look. "I'll catch you up in a few...."

***

...This was getting really frustrating. Harry tugged distractedly on his robe, putting it back into place after Disapparating into Diagon's Public Apparition Point and beginning to shove his way through the crowds toward Flourish and Blott's. The gift hadn't been under the bed. Nor had it been under the dresser, the desk, the chair, the laundry hamper _or_ the bookshelf...not that he was sure how it could have _gotten_ under the bookshelf, but he'd checked anyway, just to be certain. He'd also gone and checked under the couch in the main living room...even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't find anything. Better safe than sorry, though, was his thought.

Slipping through a small gap in the shoppers, Harry ducked into the bookshop and started perusing the shelves, looking for Ron. He pushed his way through the _**Magical Creatures and Plants**_ section, pressed past several middle aged witches in the _**Cooking/Kitchen Witchery**_ area, and ducked under the flailing arms of a wildly gesticulating wizard in _**Politics and World View**_ before finding the _**Muggle Studies**_ rows. Peering down each set of shelves, he soon spotted Ron at the end, browsing a heavy, leather bound tome, a stack of similar books piled sideways on the shelf in front of him.

Ron looked up as Harry moved next to him. "Oh, hey, Harry," Ron nodded, bobbing the book in a kind of aborted wave of acknowledgement. "Everything all right, then?"

Harry half-nodded and gave a brief shrug of his shoulders before leaning in and changing the subject. Brushing shoulders with Ron, he nodded at the book in his friend's hands. "That the one for your dad? Any good, do you think?"

****

The next place he thought to check was in the closet with the spare wrapping paper. Ron was distracted by the new deluxe Firebolt (it had a holly wood handle, advanced security spells and an ultra cushy seat spell) and didn't even hear Harry when he stammered out an excuse and vanished. Harry came back 15 minutes later to find Ron still entranced by the broom, and not having moved an inch from the spot Harry'd left him a quarter of an hour before.

Then, Harry overheard a pair of elderly wizards laughing and commiserating about leaving their eyeglasses in their respective refrigerators -- and abruptly remembered how he'd been hungry when he was putting the wrapping paper away. This time, Ron gave him an odd look as he backed away and it was only _after_ Harry'd confirmed that the gift was not in the flat's icebox that Harry realized he'd told Ron he had forgotten to put a ham in the dishwasher to freeze.

Fortunately, by the time Harry had Apparated back into Diagon Alley and re-located Ron, his partner was well distracted. Fred and George Weasley, Ron's elder twin brothers, were apparently out hunting for their own White Niffler gifts, and the trio were deep in a discussion of the merits of a variety of trick quills and singing parchments. Ron was favoring the green parchment, which proclaimed everything written on it with heroic vigour. Fred, it seemed, was leaning toward the pink parchment -- this one turned everything written on it into a vomitously sweet love song. George, on the other hand, was exclaiming the virtues of a garishly yellow parchment. It cursed loudly and creatively whenever it was written upon and was denouncing George's ancestry as Harry joined them.

"--long eared son of a blind Turkish mule with a cross-dressing belly dancer fetish!" the parchment was hissing. Harry blinked. Well...you could never fault the twins for not finding interesting items, that was for sure.

"Oi, Harry!" exclaimed Fred, spotting him. "Here, what do you think?" The twin held up the three kinds of parchment samples, and shoved them under Harry's nose. "Which do _you_ think we should be getting?"

Harry accepted the samples and looked them over, then surreptitiously glanced at the prices. Hmm...not too bad, actually. Handing back the coloured parchment, Harry shrugged and said, "Why not all of them? Make a sample pack."

Fred and George looked at each other in awe. "Why didn't we think of that?" "A sample pack!" they exclaimed together, then, "And of the quills!" and reached for the trick quills to add several of each to their handfuls of parchment.

Ron smirked after them, then looked at Harry. "Where'd you go, mate? Got your gift yet? We have to be at the Burrow in a half an hour...,"

Harry blanched slightly, then shook his head, answering, truthfully, "I haven't found anything."

Ron lifted an eyebrow, then nodded. "Yeah, loads of this stuff is just holiday shite."

Harry nodded and shrugged. "I could get a journal or something -- those are generic enough...maybe?" He looked at Ron, uncertain.

Ron shook his head, "Nah, mate, you want something that's not generic for this. Trust me." He took Harry by the shoulder and guided him toward the shop door, calling over his shoulder, "We'll see you at the Burrow in a bit!"

The twins nodded without looking up from their selection of quills and parchment, eagerly discussing the possibilities of carrying something similar in their joke shoppe, even as they made their selections for purchase. The shoppe keeper was hovering nearby, watching them with a jaundiced eye.

Ron kept his hand on Harry's shoulder as they left the shoppe, guiding him firmly through the bustling crowd and over to a small alleyway with a crooked sign that read _**Reaker Lane**_. Gently giving Harry a shove, Ron sent them both down the tiny lane, slipping past shoppers and around street hawkers until they came to a miniature covered square full of booths, stalls and tables. Harry could see some of the booth workers beginning to pack up their items, but others were still hawking their wares with enthusiasm, calling out to the crowd swirling past. He looked over his shoulder at Ron, who smiled.

"Flea market. Here every Saturday. Mum always finds interesting things here...now, hurry, we've only got about ten minutes before we are expected at the Burrow!" He gave Harry a gentle shove toward the booths, following closely on his heels.

Harry began browsing quickly, scanning the tables and stalls for something interesting, finally stopping at a woodworker's stall. Gently, he picked up a small block of wood, shaped rather like a particularly knobbily bit of driftwood but highly polished to show off the lovely red-and-gold grain. Turning it curiously, only his Seeker's reflexes enabled him to catch the small drawer that slipped smoothly out of the block, revealing it to be a cunningly crafted little box. A hand-inked tag inside the drawer gave a price of "Two galleons, Three sickles -- interior enlargement charm free upon request".

Harry grinned. It was perfect. Quickly, he paid the box's maker and watched as the woodcrafter first cast a simple enlargement charm to triple the drawer's capacity, and then carefully wrapped the box up in green and lavender tissue.

"Nice choice, mate," Ron approved. "That one'll get passed loads among the ladies. Got it, then?" He peered over Harry's shoulder at the bright package, then grabbed Harry's arm. "Good, come on, we'll be late!" And he dragged Harry over to a small, empty alley between the hawkers' tents. "See you at the Burrow, then. Front door?"

Harry nodded, reluctantly. "Ron, wait, I need to tell you some--" But Ron had already Apparated away. Harry sighed, then took a deep breath and, tucking his White Niffler gift safely into his pocket, _*popped*_ out of existence.

***

It was just starting to snow in Ottery St Catchpole. The white flakes drifted down out of the sky, glowing blue against the blackness then gradually shading into delicate gold as they caught the light of the lanterns glowing outside the front door of the Burrow. Merry music and bright laughter seeped out of the cracks of the old building, warming the frigid air with good humour. Ron was leaning against the doorjamb, taking refuge from the chill drift of flakes under the lintel as he waited for Harry to arrive, the glow of candlelight picking up the golden highlights of his hair.

Harry's arrival produced a small gust of displaced air and sent swirling flakes into a dizzy dance, sparkling in the warm glow of light from the windows nearby. Ron grinned as Harry automatically checked himself over, patting pockets and adjusting his glasses. It seemed that no matter how many times Harry Apparated, he never quite trusted himself to all be there at the other end of the journey.

"Everything where it ought to be?" Ron asked, stepping forward to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry nodded, looking up at him, blinking slightly as falling flakes landed on his eyelids and glasses, and Ron bent to drop a light welcoming kiss across Harry's warm lips. "Good, then." Ron smiled and turned toward the door.

"Ron, wait --" Harry put out a hand, screwing up his courage. Now or never. "I need to tell you some--"

At the same moment, Ron suddenly turned back to him, a consternated look on his face. "Oh, by the way, mate," he said, reaching into the pocket of his robes, "You left this on the kitchen counter this morning. Looked like you might have missed it when we owled the gifts over to Mum's. I figured I'd better grab it, so you wouldn't forget it. Here." And he tossed a small, red and gold wrapped, glittering bundle to Harry. "So...what was it you needed to tell me?"

Harry caught the small package with both hands, staring at it, and then at Ron. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and _felt_ the tension, the embarrassment, the nerves, the sheer _frustration_ of the entire day pour out of him, like water from a cracked vase, flooding down and out through his feet and vanishing into the dark night air as he exhaled. After a moment, he opened his eyes and smiled up at his partner. "Just...," carefully, Harry handed the gift back to Ron, "Merry Christmas, mate. Merry Christmas." Reaching up, he drew Ron down for a long, soft kiss, feeling the snowflakes alighting on his skin like icy kisses as he tasted Ron's mouth, pressing his body close to the tall, strong frame of his partner. With a soft, gentle sigh, he finally released the other, letting his hands trail down Ron's neck, to his chest, to gently grasp Ron's hands between his own, cupping them tightly around the gift and pressing it into Ron's chest with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

Still smiling, Harry turned and led the way into the warmth of the Burrow, a bemused and smiling Weasley drifting along behind him.

End


End file.
